Rusting locks for the spied upon

A conspiratorial carousel
Where the unmerry go round wearing dunce caps
And clown boots
Perhaps it's a dedication to decadence
Which leaves me festering through the days
Preoccupied with paranoia
Infatuated with suffering
How deep can I really get
Past bone, but marrow
How to hurt the soul though?
This razor won't cut god's weave
No matter how blunt we get.
Flesh is just a matted mess
White streaks on pale skin
Bumped and ridged
Patches of hair between the scar tissue
The stench of paranoia is leaking in
Behind shuttered windows and locked door
Like the mould of aged retardation
Mechanical flies are buzzing drone like
With camera eye's they watch me
I want to squeeze it and see the circuits
But what if it's just blood
Another spec on the walls of distrust
I over hear the commands on the radio
Trying to control me, subliminally
Failed attempts at dictating my behaviour
Wax keeps dripping to flickers
Rhythmically, entrancing, dimming
Table just a cooling mound of mess
Peak out the portholes to see my captors
A gaggle of gossiping little villagers
Circles small as their minds
Minds limited as their experiences
But are they what they claim?
Analysing me at all times
Or is it merely the disease of self reference
A delusional insanity
I think too much one will tell me
Too much time alone
It's only in their presence I seek escape
Head twitching this way and that
Can't keep steady, everyone everywhere
All lying, all spying, psychiatrists? Psychologists? Jailors? Deep squad or corporates? Is this my solitude forced?
An illusion of free will offered up in dictation
Offer after offer after offer of new life choices
Take this, take that, do this
I slink back from so called advice
To the warmth of personal decay
A decadence of the mind
Unsanitary yet obsessive and compulsive
Bleached utensils, bleached pans, bleached cooker, bleached floor, bleached windows, bleached flannel, bleached skin
The flies are still fizzing dizzily
Endlessly transcribing my every moment
To unwatchable watchers
I need more locks, more paper for these windows, less space, less light
Just a hole to hide away in
Is it guilt that fans the flames of fancy
Conspiracy theories endlessly conjured about myself then projected onto the masses as if they were the culprits to my crimes
A stalker stalked by realities rationale
The tedious nature of their routines
Always present
Every day, never alone but never in company
Like jailors they parade about my cell
Pretending to work on things other than my psyche
Three weeks on the trot without true sleep
Always forgetting the so called bin day
I know they'll go through my refuse
Looking for the evidence
Fetid plastic full of stewing rot
Sitting idly by the door to fester
In anticipation of sightlessness
When in dark I can drag it to the roadside
The flies must be camera's
I'm on the scent of my persecutors
Bleaching everything, bleaching everything
Yet still it all rots about me
And it's hard to breathe
Humidity high, sweating, always sweating
Urine taints the bleached air
Could I open this window? At five in the morning still wires and clawing through the never ending analysis of sanity's decline
They make it decline
Pushing the idea into my head
With their wants and aims and aspirations all projected onto me
I want nothing
There is nothing to want
Everything, nothing one and the same
Twisted lines and parallels
Perfectly rehearsed by the watching flock
To open my windows is to go silent
Lightless and without power
To sit prone, unmoving in a hidden spot
Till I can breathe without chemical sputtering
Mildew and condensation
Damp every where
They'd think they were right if they saw this
Justifying the targeting of individuals
Strayed far from the common conventions
Of clicking country communities
How far out is isolation really
To be condemned in such manner
The fewer to know, the more they think they know
Less of them to see
More attention can be paid to myself
By those few and I
But I know what they're up to
I see them through the portholes everyday
Pretending not to look over
They all talk about me I know it
From common man to government
With their cases and their suits
Always present and following
Even in lanes in the middle of nowhere
Suited with cases
Specials, specials, specialized in stalking me
Permanent observation observed
So clear it's almost plain
Just the normality of being wanted for nothing, or being nothing wanted
Helicopters hum in suspension
Leaving me in suspense watching for the rope to lower
Or that little red dot of it all being over soon
The fucking stench of paranoia
And this fly I dare not break
If it doesn't break it dies
Then I lose this game
And my mind is theirs to lock up
But for now
It's my keys in my locks
And my shutters on my windows
I've got my tools of defense at the ready
Take me if you can I'll laugh and scream and shout then stifle my mouth and slump silent
Just fuelling them, giving them ammo
They want to take me away I know it
Because I want to disappear
To slip between the cracks
And exist as a ghost
They just want to drug me
I can drug myself
They want me in a room, or a hospital, or worse
I want them all dead
So I can breathe in the decay
And lonesome be at peace
With paranoia faded to silence
There would be nothing to fear if they'd all just die
So they all must die
Whenever a chance to get out unseen, unheard arises
I couldn't be paranoid alone
With my keys and my locks and my shutters
I couldn't be paranoid alone
With my locks and my shutters